


Lost and Found

by Djcwrites



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Philoise, they're in america too I guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29984166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djcwrites/pseuds/Djcwrites
Summary: Eloise Bridgerton is getting her master's in English. One night, while leaving the library with friends, she finds a datebook belonging to a Phillip Crane
Relationships: Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane
Comments: 18
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someday, I may grow tired of these two, but today is not that day

“Ugggh,” Eloise said, dropping her forehead onto the textbook that lay on the table in front of her. She looked at her phone, 10:30 on a Thursday night and she was still in the library. “How did I get myself into this situation?” she raised her head and looked across the table at Penelope, “Pen, when I said ‘oh I think I’m going to get a master’s in English’, _English_ of all things, why didn’t you talk me out of it?”

Penelope shifted her eyes from her laptop screen to Eloise without moving her head. “Because,” she began to reply, never once stopping her typing “I believe your exact words were ‘Pen, I’m going to grad school and there’s no way you can talk me out of it.” 

“She’s right, El,” Edwina said, not bothering to look up from her computer, “I have it on video.” 

“How many drinks had I had up to that point?” Eloise’s head was once again in her textbook making her words difficult to hear. “And was I aware at the time that I would have to read _The Canterbury Tales_ again?”

“None and yes,” Penelope replied.

“Ugh,” Eloise repeated, “what are you two working on?” she wanted to distract herself from Chaucer for a moment,

“I’m writing a paper about the works and political activism of Susan Sontag,” Penelope answered.

“I’m writing a reflection on a trip I had to take to the Met,” Edwina stated, “so I’m attempting to be engaging about statues I have seen on what must be at least a hundred occasions.”

“Do you guys remember in undergrad when we used to do fun and interesting things on the weekends?” Eloise asked. 

“I don’t think that emptying 4 bottles of Barefoot Riesling and eating buffalo wings while watching Golden Girls reruns could be deemed interesting in any sense of the word,” Penelope said, “plus, judging by the frequency with which Eddie’s phone has been vibrating, she certainly has an interesting weekend ahead of her,” she smirked.

Eloise’s head popped up in interest. Finally a distraction! “Are these texts from a gentleman?” she asked with a tone of overstated interest.

Edwina started to flush “Do you guys remember that TA I had last semester for my archaeology class?”

“The one who’s _so_ smart and funny and cute and always replied to your emails right away?” Eloise replied, “I’m not sure if you mentioned him.”

Edwina’s eyes narrowed at Eloise’s teasing, “Well, we went out and got coffee the other week and we’ve been texting ever since, and long story short I think I’m going to marry him.”

“Marriage?” Eloise scoffed, “have you two even…?” she let her words trail off, but let a rude gesture with her hands finish the statement.

“I was being facetious,” Edwina replied, “and no, I haven’t slept with him,” she returned to typing just before adding, “Very ladylike hand gesture by the way.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve never once tried to be ladylike in my life,” Eloise retorted.

“The blouse and pencil skirt you’re wearing at the library would state otherwise,” Penelope teased.

“Pen, you know I have to wear this when I tutor,” she shot back. “Apparently I have to look professional when I’m trying to help freshmen comp lit majors figure out what _Candide_ is about.”

“What _is Candide_ about?” Edwina asked.

“Hell if I know,” Eloise replied with a shrug. She looked back at her phone, “can we go home now?” she asked, “I hate walking through the park after 11.”

Penelope closed her computer, “I was about to suggest the same.”

As the 3 women walked out of the now-empty library Eloise spotted something on a bench in the vestibule between the library doors. It was a leather-bound notebook with a snap closure. Eloise couldn’t help but be curious, so she opened it.

“What on Earth are you doing El?” Penelope asked, “we are in New York City, god knows where that’s been!”

“Calm down Pen, it’s not street trash,” she replied. She opened to the first page of the notebook and read: _property of Phillip Crane. If found, please contact_ _pcrane282@nyu.edu_

* * *

Phillip got home and basically went straight to sleep. Well, first he thanked and said goodbye to his Aunt who had been kind enough to watch his children after their most recent nanny had quit.

It appeared that the final straw for the most recent young lady–in what seemed to be a revolving door of unfortunate women (and some men)– was when the twins had decided to put a layer of cream cheese on the deodorant that they found in her purse. Phillip was more bewildered by his children’s antics than anybody, but even he had to admit that someone who decided to pursue a career in child care ought to be made of sterner stuff. 

But today had been a long day, and he needed to sleep before he went back to the lab tomorrow. He peaked his head into Oliver and Amanda’s room to make sure they were asleep. Or, if not asleep, not causing trouble. Then he went to his room and simply fell face down on the bed.

Phillip woke up the next morning to his alarm at 6:30 am in the clothes he had worn the day previous. He cursed under his breath, he was planning to wear that pair of khakis again today, but now they were all wrinkled and so was his shirt. Phillip went out into the kitchen and started making coffee when he heard a small voice from behind him.

“Daddy, you’re not going to wear those clothes to work are you?” He turned around to see Amanda in her pajamas. 

“Don’t I look good?” Phillip joked with her.

“You look like you slept in your clothes,” she said flatly, moving a chair to the side of the cabinet to reach for the cereal that was a bit too high for her to reach on her own. 

“That’s just the look I was going for,” he smiled and took a sip of his coffee, “do you want me to pack your lunch for you?” he asked. He didn’t have to be at the lab until 9:00 this morning, he could probably take the time to whip something up for them.

“No thanks,” Amanda said, passing him to get milk from the refrigerator, “Me and Oliver packed our lunches last night.”

Phillip felt his stomach knot. He was proud that both of his children were self-sufficient, but he hated the fact that they had to be. Ever since their mother died–and frankly, before–they had needed to be like little adults, in spite of being 8 years old. Phillip tried the best he could to be a good dad to them, but working toward a Ph.D. and having the pressure of a research fellowship on one’s shoulders made active fathering somewhat difficult. 

“What did you pack? Is it healthy?” Phillip asked, trying to make up for his dead-beat ways.

“Sandwich, apples, yogurt, and cheez-its,” she said matter of factly “I don’t know what Oliver put in his.”

As if on cue Oliver walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “I made the same thing but with chips instead of yogurt, because yogurt is gross.” He joined his sister at the countertop and poured cereal into a bowl that Amanda had already set out for him.

“Alright, kids, what’s on the schedule for today?” Phillip said, putting down his coffee, “anything after school that I should let Aunt Gertie know about?”

“I have piano right after school,” Amanda stated.

“And I have a hockey game at 5,” Oliver said with a mouth full of cereal, “can you come, Dad?” 

Phillip’s heart sank at the cautious optimism his son exhibited, he knew he probably wasn’t going to be able to make it, but he decided to try and humor his son anyway. 

“Let me check my book,” he said walking over to his bag. He looked in the brown satchel to find that he couldn’t find the familiar brown leather datebook.

“Shit,” he whispered under his breath, “shit shit shit shit shit.”

“Are you okay dad?” Oliver asked, once more with his mouth full.

“Yes,” Phillip said with a sigh “I just can’t find my datebook.”

Phillip grabbed his phone to check the schedule he tried to maintain electronically and saw that he had an email.

> Dear Mr. Crane,
> 
> Hello! I just wanted to contact you because I believe I found your datebook outside the library last night. At least, this is the email that was written to contact in case it was found. What is the best way that I can return it to you? I know I’m personally lost without my planner. Let me know how I can get it back to you and I will be sure to do so ASAP.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Eloise Bridgerton, B.A.
> 
> Student | NYU Graduate School of Arts & Science
> 
> ebridge240@nyu.edu | (212)995-3422
> 
> P.S. I suppose I should ask you to describe it, just to make sure I’m handing it off to the right person. Once you’ve done that I will promptly return it to you.

“Oh thank god,” Phillip whispered to himself.

“Did you find it, daddy?” Amanda asked.

“No, but someone else did,” Phillip said. He checked the calendar on his phone:

> _5-6pm: Dissertation Meeting_

“Damn,” he said under his breath. He hated doing this. He hated seeing the look in his children’s eyes when he told them that he couldn’t be there for them. And he positively despised the feeling that picturing them looking for him in the stands gave him.

He walked over to Oliver, “Alright bud,” he said, putting his face level with his son’s. But before he could finish Oliver cut in.

“You can’t come, can you?” he said, trying very hard to keep a stiff upper lip.

Phillip’s stomach lurched “No, buddy, I can’t,” he said, “but you know what I’m going to do?”

“What?” Oliver said, still dejected.

“The second my datebook is back in my hands, I’m going to copy down every game you have for the rest of the season and make sure nothing interferes, okay?” he said

“Okay,” Oliver said, very clearly trying to prevent himself from getting his hopes up.

Phillip returned to his coffee, “what time does school start again?”

“Eight o’clock,” Amanda chimed

Phillip looked at his watch and saw that it was 6:45. “How about we all get ready and I’ll drive you guys in today?”

At that, the twins seemed to get more excited. “Okay!” they both said in unison as they dashed off to get ready. 

Phillip took his phone out once more and typed out a quick reply to the person who found his datebook.

> Dear Ms. Bridgerton,
> 
> Thank you so much! I must have set it down while I was gathering my things and forgotten about it. I appreciate your thoroughness, I’m glad to hear my day runner is not going to be given away to a stranger. As for its description: brown, leatherbound with a snap closure. A unique aspect of it is that there are several pressed flowers in the back pages and the leather on the back is stained. In regard to its return, would you be willing to drop it off at the front desk at the Center for Genomics and Systems Biology (12 Waverly)? They should be able to get it to me from there. Once again, thank you so much.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Phillip Crane, M.S.
> 
> Research Fellow, Ph.D. Candidate | NYU Center for Genomics and Systems Biology
> 
> pcrane282@nyu.edu | (212)455-7899

Phillip pulled into the drop-off lane at Oliver and Amanda’s school. As the twins unbuckled their seatbelts he said “Okay guys, what should you do today?”

“Learn,” the twins groaned.

“And what shouldn’t you do?” Phillip continued.

“Cause trouble” the twins replied, begrudgingly performing their daily script.

“That’s right,” Phillip said, “have a good day you two”

“Bye dad,” Oliver mumbled hopping out of the car

“Bye daddy, I love you!” Amanda said.

“I love you too!” Phillip said, but as it came out of his mouth, the car door shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which intrigue grows.

Phillip walked through the door to the lab and saw his research assistant, Miles Carter, was preparing some slides.

“Hi Miles,” he said, giving a nod.

“Hey Phil, your girlfriend came by and dropped off your datebook,” Miles replied. He pointed at the brown leather book to his side while looking into a microscope.

“My _what_?” Phillip asked

“Your datebook,” Miles repeated, “your girlfriend came by and dropped it off at the front desk while I was working.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Phillip replied flatly.

“Oh,” Miles looked away from the microscope, “well then, a brunette mystery woman dropped your datebook off,”

“What made you think she was my girlfriend?” Phillip asked, feeling slightly immature about his curiosity, but too curious not to ask.

Miles shrugged, “I don’t know, she was pretty, she had one of your important belongings, and you _have_ mentioned getting back out there. I thought maybe you left it at her place and she was dropping it off for you.”

“With the number of jobs you seem to have, I’m surprised that you have time to think about my social life,” Phillip joked.

“Well, working the desk is dull and soaking plant cuttings in iodine for you isn’t much more interesting.” Miles replied, “so who was she?”

“She’s just the woman who happened to find my datebook after I lost it,” Phillip shrugged. He sat down and opened his laptop, and sure enough, there was an email from Eloise Bridgerton waiting for him to read.

> Dear Mr. Crane,
> 
> That sounds like a plan! 12 Waverly is actually right around the corner from the English department, so I will drop it off this morning! Do let me know when you’ve received it. After all, I do like to tie up all of the loose ends in a story. 
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Eloise Bridgerton, B.A.
> 
> Student | NYU Graduate School of Arts & Science
> 
> ebridge240@nyu.edu | (212)995-3422
> 
> P.S. The pressed flowers in the back pages are lovely. May I ask what flowers they are? My mother is an avid gardener and she is always looking for new flowers to plant. I know the white ones were Hyacinths, but I’m not sure I’m familiar with the other ones. The blue ones with the small petals were particularly beautiful. 

“Huh,” Phillip said.

“What?” Miles asked.

“Oh nothing, she sent me an email telling me that she was going to drop it off,” Phillip replied, “she seems very curious about the pressed flowers I have in the back of the book.”

Miles spun around in his chair, “Well then, you should email her back and tell her about them.”

“I guess I could,” Phillip agreed, “do you think it would be odd to offer her some kind of reward?” he asked.

“No,” Miles replied, “were you going to give her cash or something?”

“I don’t know, she seems interested in flowers, maybe I could give her my guest passes to the botanical gardens?” he said.

Miles shrugged, “I would probably prefer cash, but I guess it’s worth a shot”

> Dear Ms. Bridgerton,
> 
> I wanted to let you know that my planner is now back safe in my possession. Once again thank you so much for returning it to me. In regard to the flowers, the blue ones are woodland forget-me-nots ( _Myosotis sylvatica_ ), and the pink ones are Ashy cranesbills ( _Geranium cinereum_ ). 
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Phillip Crane, M.S.
> 
> Research Fellow, Ph.D. Candidate | NYU Center for Genomics and Systems Biology
> 
> pcrane282@nyu.edu | (212)455-7899
> 
> P.S. This may sound strange, but have you ever been to the New York Botanical gardens? I’m a member there and as such I’m given several guest passes each month. Would you be interested in using them? Perhaps you would like to take your mother? It’s honestly the least I can do after you went out of your way to get my planner back to me.

“Huh,” Eloise said, looking at her phone while in line for what had to be her 3rd coffee of the day.

“What?” Penelope said with an alarming amount of interest as she quickly craned her neck to get a glance at Eloise’s phone.

Eloise quickly rotated her torso to keep her phone out of Penelope’s view, “God, nothing that important,” she said, looking at Penelope like she was a wild woman, “it’s just that guy whose datebook I found, he emailed me to say thank you.”

“Oh,” Penelope said, rapidly losing interest.

“What did you _think_ it was?” Eloise asked.

“I don’t know,” Penelope replied with an evasive shrug.

Eloise eyed Penelope, she was acting weird. She didn’t think too long about it though, maybe there was a full moon or something.

She elaborated, “He offered me guest passes to the botanical gardens as a thank you.” 

Penelope looked at her with an arched brow, “Why would he do that?”

“I think he does research with plants or something,” Eloise shrugged, “he had some pressed flowers in the back of his book and I asked him about them. So I guess he thought I’d be interested. I don’t know, it’s kind of cute actually.”

“Is he asking you on a date?”

“No,” Eloise thought, “at least I don’t think so. He said I should bring my mother”

“Does he know your mother?” 

“No, I just mentioned that she likes flowers.”

“Well, just make sure not to get murdered.” Penelope casually stated as she walked to the register to put in her order. 

“Do you think it would be weird for me to use his first name in the salutation?” Eloise asked after they both finished ordering.

“What does his signature say?”

“Phillip Crane.”

“And he’s offering you his guest passes after you two had a discussion about flowers?”

Eloise nodded.

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t use his first name then,” Penelope said.

Eloise began typing her response.

* * *

Phillip heard his phone buzz on the surface of the table, but before he could take his eyes away from the microscope, Miles had craned his neck to read the notification. Phillip snatched his phone away. 

“You know, it’s considered an invasion of privacy to read someone else’s messages,” Phillip said.

Miles smiled, “what’s an email from a mystery woman between you and your best friend?”

“You’re my only friend,” Phillip said, unlocking his phone.

“One: doesn’t that automatically make me your best friend? And two: I hope to God that something comes out of this, because that was the saddest thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Hope something comes of what?” Phillip said, suddenly forgetting what folder his email app was in.

Miles turned, put both of his hands on the table, and said “For the smartest person I know, you can be remarkably oblivious”

Phillip put his phone down and gave Miles a stern look “If you’re talking about my emails, I think you're reading a bit too much into it.” 

Miles just smirked, “Am I, _dear Phillip_?”

Phillip scrunched his eyebrows and looked at Miles in confusion. However, once he finally found the damn email app on his phone, he became less confused.

> Dear Phillip,
> 
> Good to hear! And thank you so much for your offer. I haven’t been to the botanical gardens in years, I would love to take you up on those passes as long as it’s not too much trouble! 
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Eloise Bridgerton, B.A.
> 
> Student | NYU Graduate School of Arts & Science
> 
> ebridge240@nyu.edu | (212)995-3422

“She used my first name,” Phillip stated flatly.

“She did,” Miles replied, grinning.

“Well we _have_ been emailing back and forth, and my signature _does_ say ‘Phillip Crane’,” Phillip said, “I don’t think there’s any reason to read into it.”

But as much as he was trying to keep it cool, Phillip felt a flutter of excitement somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. Of course, he wasn’t going to assume that Eloise Bridgerton had any interest in him just because she abandoned email formality, but the fact that there was something to read into at all was something in itself. Phillip couldn’t remember the last time he spoke to a woman whom he wasn’t related to or whom he didn’t work with. The only reason he could remember the last time he had been with a woman is because it was when the twins were conceived. Also, Miles was right, he had thought about dating again. If not for his own sake, then for the sake of his children. 

And damn, if something about Eloise Bridgerton didn’t intrigue him. Her curiosity made him curious, and her maintenance of their correspondence intensified it.

So, imagining the possibilities, while at the same time tempering any semblance of excitement his subconscious threw at him, Phillip tapped out a quick message.

* * *

Eloise was sitting on the couch in her apartment going through her emails with a glass of wine in her hand, as she often did on Friday nights, when Penelope walked in the door. Eloise glanced at the time on the microwave in the kitchen. Oh my god, was it really 12:30 already? And Why was Penelope back so late?

“Where were you so late? _Edwina_ got back before you did,” Eloise asked. As the resident beauty, Edwina was often out the latest, usually being wined and dined by a variety of gentlemen.

“Oh, you know my family,” Penelope dismissed, “I don’t get to leave for at least an hour after I say my initial goodbyes,” she hung up her coat, “and then the Friday night traffic.” 

Eloise gave her friend an appraising glance and took a sip of her wine. Penelope had been incredibly strange today. But, Eloise allowed, she had probably been acting strange herself, so she tried not to read into it. 

Penelope sat down next to her, “So, did you ever hear back from that Phillip guy?”

Eloise opened the next email from one of the undergrads she tutored and looked up, “No, I must have scared him off. It’s a shame, I was looking forward to the botanical gardens.”

Penelope sighed, “There go my dreams of living _You’ve Got Mail_ vicariously through you.”

Eloise laughed, “I’ll just have to keep picking up strange books in library vestibules until I get it right.”

Eloise pressed the arrow button to move onto her next email and was surprised to find that it was from Phillip Crane.

> Dear Eloise,
> 
> Wonderful! It’s no trouble at all. Is there a place I can drop off the passes for you?
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Phillip Crane, M.S.
> 
> Research Fellow, Ph.D. Candidate | NYU Center for Genomics and Systems Biology
> 
> pcrane282@nyu.edu | (212)455-7899

“Oh,” Eloise said.

“Oh, what?” returned Penelope.

“He did reply. Almost right away, actually.” Eloise stated, “It must have been overshadowed by the desperate emails from the undergrads I tutor.”

“Well, are you going to reply?” Penelope asked

“Of course, would you give me a minute?” Eloise quipped. She started to type her reply, but then stopped, “hmmm.”

“Hmmm?” Penelope echoed.

“Do you think it would be weird if I asked him to text me when he drops off the passes?” Eloise asked.

“You’re not giving him our address are you?” Penelope queried.

“No, I’m going to have him drop them in my English Department mailbox,” Eloise replied as if that should be completely obvious, “or I’ll give him my P.O. Box,”

“Well, this situation is weird enough, you might as well go for it” Penelope said getting up, “Now, I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Eloise said, taking another sip of her wine before typing up a response and pressing “send”.

> Dear Phillip,
> 
> Yes, there is. I have a mailbox on the 3rd floor of the English department if it’s not too much trouble for you to swing by, otherwise, I could give you my mailing address. If you do decide to drop them in my mailbox, would you be willing to text me and let me know? The undergrads I tutor have a paper due and my inbox is absolutely glutted, and I would hate for your email to get lost in the shuffle. My phone number is on my email signature. Thanks again!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Eloise Bridgerton, B.A.
> 
> Student | NYU Graduate School of Arts & Science
> 
> ebridge240@nyu.edu | (212)995-3422


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence continues, Phillip decides to be bold, twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I might actually learn how to format CSS so these can look like actual texts, but right now I have neither the time nor patience :)

The weekends, Phillip thought, were his saving grace as a father. Two days where he could actually spend time with his kids. It just so happened that Oliver had a hockey game Saturday afternoon, so maybe he could make up for missing the previous game. He was sitting in the stands with Amanda and attempting to explain the rules to her, which was difficult since 8-U hockey wasn’t exactly a great representation of the game.

“It’s a lot like soccer,” he ended up saying to his daughter. That was, after all, her sport of choice. Phillip was thankful for that. Hockey and soccer had different seasons and he couldn’t bear to be a disappointment to both of his children at once.

“Did you play hockey daddy?” Amanda asked.

“Yes, I did, for a long time actually” Phillip answered. Phillip’s father had been a maniac when it came to sports. Phillip and his older brother George were expected to excel in any sport their father put them in. For Phillip, the sport he opted to stick with was hockey and not football like his father would have liked. But that didn’t stop Phillip’s father from taking things too far. When Phillip let the game-winning goal through in the section finals his freshman year, his father made him run sprints until he collapsed. Though, at least the sprints didn’t leave scars. He couldn’t say the same for some of his father’s punishments when he was younger.

As much as Phillip was enjoying being a halfway decent father, he felt a little distracted. His phone was burning a hole in his pocket. God help him, he wanted to contact Eloise again. He wanted to know what she had to say, to find out what she was curious about, and feel the pride of answering those questions. But he didn’t want to be the weirdo who sent unsolicited messages to women, so he waited. He’d wait until his lunch on Monday to drop the tickets off. He’d play it cool. 

“Daddy, what are you thinking about?” Amanda’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Nothing honey,” he couldn’t very well tell his 8-year-old daughter that a woman he never met was occupying his thoughts. “Just thinking.”

Phillip spent the entire weekend thinking. It was now Sunday night and he was sitting at the desk in his office. The twins were asleep, having exhausted themselves running around outside in the freshly fallen snow all day. He was about to seal the envelope with the guest passes inside to deliver to Eloise, but he wanted to do something. Something thoughtful. 

He told himself that he would want to do this for anybody who did him such a big favor, but that probably wasn’t true. He liked to think it was Eloise’s interest in his flowers that might have made him more keen and not the fact that Miles had mentioned that she was pretty. But he feared the opposite might be true, and that made him feel uncomfortably shallow. 

But Phillip decided not to dwell on it. He wanted a woman to like him. Was that really so strange? Then, after a weekend of thinking, Phillip finally figured out what he could do that was thoughtful.

* * *

Eloise was walking out of her writing seminar when she felt a buzz in her pocket. She took out her phone.

> _Maybe: Phillip Crane_
> 
> _Today 12:43 PM_
> 
> _Hello Eloise, this is Phillip Crane. I just wanted to let you know that I left the guest passes in your mailbox. I’ve got to admit, it took me a little while to find it. I haven’t spent much time in campus buildings other than the CGSB._

_Finally_ , she thought. Eloise had spent the weekend annoyingly restless waiting for a reply from Phillip. She knew there was absolutely no reason she should have expected a reply before now. After all, she told him to text her when he had dropped the tickets in her mailbox and he couldn’t do that on the weekend. She was surprised to feel her phone vibrate again.

> _I look forward to hearing how you liked the gardens!_

At this, Eloise felt her cheeks get warm

“Hey, El!” Eloise heard a decidedly male voice shout from down the hall behind her. Her eyes widened. “ _Benedict,”_ she thought. She had forgotten that she promised to take him to lunch today–even though she told him where to meet her this morning. Jesus, she needed to get a grip on herself. He was in town from upstate and they were going to catch up and go to some galleries.

“Hey Ben,” she said, turning around, “how are you doing?”

“Oh you know, different liver, same eagles,” he shrugged “but _I_ want to know about what _you_ have been up to” he looped his arm through hers and they began to walk.

“Nothing interesting,” she replied, confused and wary of her brother’s sudden interest, “why?”

“Really?” Benedict inquired, “No shady dealings with strange men?”

“What?” Eloise asked, somewhat frustrated. One of the favorite hobbies of all the Bridgerton brothers, it seemed, was dancing around the point.

“Well,” Benedict began, “I was hanging out, waiting for your class to be done and I just so happened to be down the hall from the mailboxes…”

_“Uh oh,”_ Eloise thought. She didn’t know why she was worried that Benedict had seen Phillip Crane. After all, she barely knew the guy. In fact, she didn’t know the guy. But she had to admit, something about the man intrigued her. Maybe Benedict had seen him and he was a total creep. Then the illusion she had created in her head, which showed Phillip Crane as Michael Fassbender in _Jane Eyre_ for whatever reason, would be shattered.

Benedict continued his story, “when a man I can only describe as a nerdy Wolverine came up to me and asked where the mailboxes were. Being my curious and often meddlesome self,” he turned his head and looked down at her, “I am, after all, a Bridgerton,” he faced his head forward once again, “I followed him and saw that he dropped an envelope in the mailbox of an E. Bridgerton!”

Eloise stopped to face her brother, “You followed him closely enough to see which mailbox he put the envelope in?”

“I might have seen your name on the envelope when he was asking me for directions,” Benedict allowed. Then his voice grew quiet. “You know, El, you can tell me if he’s paying you for feet pics, I won’t judge you.”

Eloise punched her brother’s arm. “Sophie shouldn’t let you leave the house.”

Benedict put on a smirk and wryly stated “if it were up to the both of us, she wouldn’t”

Eloise’s eyes narrowed “You’re a degenerate.”

“A degenerate who still hasn’t received an answer as to why strange men are leaving missives in his sister’s mailbox.”

Elois rolled her eyes, “It’s hardly a missive. The other day I found a datebook in the library, I contacted the owner and returned it. As a thank you, he gave me tickets to the botanical gardens.” she said dragging her brother towards the mailbox and grabbing the envelope.

“He couldn’t just give you cash?” Benedict asked as Eloise tore at the envelope.

“I think it’s nice,” she said, grabbing the tickets and holding them up to her brother’s face, “See? It’s just tickets.”

“And some pressed forget-me-nots if I’m not mistaken,” Benedict drolled.

“What?”

“In between the tickets, there is what appears to be a bookmark made of pressed forget-me-nots” he smirked.

Eloise retracted her arm, observing the items in her hand. Sure enough, there was a small laminated card with the blooms she had remarked on in her email. “Oh.”

Benedict’s eyes and his smirk both widened as he took his phone out of his back pocket.

“What are you doing?” Eloise asked.

“Texting Colin,” Benedict said, his thumbs typing away with impressive speed, “he’s going to love this” 

“Love what?” Eloise asked, trying to get a view of Benedict’s phone screen. Benedict simply turned again to keep it from her view, he was lucky he was tall.

“That our dear Eloise has a _boyfriend,_ ” Benedict said with the inflection of a 5-year-old. “About time too. Have you even been on a date since your senior prom?”

“You are almost forty years old, you absolute child!” Eloise ground out, reaching for Benedict’s phone, “and I have never met Phillip!”

“Ooh, on a first name basis are we?” Benedict teased

“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s barely an acquaintance!”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Benedict said, trying to prevent his sister from climbing on his back in order to reach his phone.

“Ugh! You’re impossible!” Eloise let out after giving up on her pursuit of her brother’s device “and that’s not even the line!”

“What?” Benedict asked.

“From Hamlet,” Eloise crossed her arms, “it’s not ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much', it’s ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”

“And does this Phillip gentleman find that sort of pedantry attractive?” he said.

Eloise tossed her arms in the air, “You’re on your own for lunch.” 

Benedict followed after her, “don’t be like that El.” 

She ignored him.

“Eloise, I need you to show me where to get my parking validated.” His voice grew more desperate.

“That sounds like something you should have considered before you decided to text Colin,” Eloise said. Benedict’s teasing was annoying, but Colin’s would be insufferable. Colin would also probably tell Gregory and Anthony, in which case Eloise might as well jump into the Hudson right now. 

“I didn’t send it, I swear,” Benedict said.

Eloise stopped and turned at him with a stare so sharp that it could cut glass. “If I so much as hear a word of this from one of our siblings, I will end you.”

Benedict just put his arm around her and said. “Oh Eloise, if I had a penny for every time you said that.”

When Eloise finally got in the passenger's seat of her brother's car, and was 100% sure he couldn’t see her phone, she composed her reply. She was still taken aback by the flowers. The fact that he thought to put flowers in at all was interesting enough, but the fact that the ones he chose were the ones she had mentioned liking off-hand? Maybe it was a coincidence. Or, more excitingly, maybe it wasn’t.

> _Eloise Bridgerton_
> 
> _Today 1:00 PM_
> 
> _I’ve got them! I’m meeting my mom for dinner tomorrow so this timing is actually perfect for me to surprise her! I’ll be sure to keep you posted. I’m sure I’ll have questions!_
> 
> _By the way, thank you for the pressed forget-me-nots (Myosotis sylvatica if I remember correctly?). They’re very lovely :)_

* * *

Phillip smiled at his phone. She liked the flowers. Either that or she was just being polite. But surely she had to like them if she bothered to bring up their binomial name right?

“Wow, the sandwich is that good, huh?” Miles said, giving Phillip an appraising look, “Or, did something else happen to make you look so contented?”

“Nothing,” Phillip said, flipping his phone over and turning his attention back to the sandwich that Miles had mentioned.

“Mhm, sure seems like nothing,” Miles replied, “It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with datebook girl would it?”

“She just texted me letting me know that she got the guest passes. I also gave her some pressed flowers which she seemed to like.” Phillip said, in an attempt to be casual.

“Flowers? Phil, my man, making moves!” Miles replied excitedly, putting his hand up for a high five. He lowered it when Phillip looked at him as if he were a madman,

“Pressed flowers,” Phillip emphasized, “it's not like I gave a bouquet of a dozen roses.”

“Mhm, sure,” Miles said sarcastically, “so are you going to actually try to meet her? Or are you going to just keep sending messages back and forth like you’re in a Ken Burns documentary?”

“Meet her?” Phillip didn’t think he was quite ready for _that_. 

“Yeah, I mean, I doubt she would still be talking to you if she wasn’t at least a little interested.” Miles moved closer, “what did she say about the flowers?”

Phillip caved and showed him the message from Eloise.

“Let me put this in words you’ll understand, Phil,” Miles leaned back after reading the message, “you are wide open at the blue line and this girl just gave you an assist with ‘I’m sure I’ll have plenty of questions’ and now it's up to you to put the puck in the net and ask her to get coffee”

“I was a goalie, Miles,” Phillip said sarcastically.

“Don’t be pedantic,” Miles rolled his eyes, “just ask her, the worst that could happen is that she’ll say no.”

Phillip was sure that Miles didn’t understand the gravity of her saying no. If he made a fool of himself and she stopped talking to him, he might actually be crushed. If he was being honest with himself, just the idea of Eloise Bridgerton had been a bright spot for him in the past few days, he didn’t want to risk that.

Miles must have seen the look of concern on Phillip’s face. “Okay, let me put it this way: if you keep beating around the bush, she’ll lose interest. Just ask her to coffee, it doesn’t have to be a date. Just say that you’re long-winded and could answer better in person. Lord knows that wouldn’t be a lie.”

Phillip was still indecisive.

Miles sighed, “Okay, because I want you to be happy, I will bribe you.”

Phillip’s eyebrow arched as his interest piqued.

“If you ask her to coffee, I will babysit the twins, free of charge, for two nights of your choosing,” Miles sighed. Phillip couldn’t deny the value of that offer. The twins were starting to run his poor aunt ragged and when Miles had watched them in the past, Oliver and Amanda had enjoyed his company. 

“Fine,” Phillip said. And he got to typing a response.

> _Eloise Bridgerton_
> 
> _Today 1:10 PM_
> 
> _I’ve got them! I’m meeting my mom for dinner tomorrow so this timing is actually perfect for me to surprise her! I’ll be sure to keep you posted. I’m sure I’ll have questions!_
> 
> _By the way, thank you for the pressed forget-me-nots (Myosotis sylvatica if I remember correctly?). They’re very lovely :)_

> _I hope you two have fun! I’ll be honest with you, I can get a little long-winded talking about plants. Would you be interested in meeting for coffee on Friday to talk about it? Otherwise I might cause my carpal tunnel to act up from typing away :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for not having them meet yet! It's coming, I swear!  
> On another note, thanks for all the comments, I'm really glad that you guys have liked the story so far!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story check out my tumblr @ sirphillipcranestanaccount.tumblr.com for casual headcanons and early drafts!


End file.
